My Fallen Angel, My Saving Grace
by Sweet Kagamine Kiss
Summary: The night Harry Potter was born was the night his power was reborn. Locked deep within this child with emerald eyes was a power which in a past life was feared by all, spoken of in legend.


**My Fallen Angel, My Saving Grace**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Final Fantasy VII. This is just something I made up of my own accord. Good or bad, something I decided to do on a complete whim. An interesting note is that this was done on the date of 8/21/2008... I found this and decided to just upload it.

* * *

The night Harry Potter was born was the night his power was reborn. Locked deep within this child with emerald eyes was a power which in a past life was feared by all, spoken of in legend. Harry Potter, second son of James and Lillian Potter, brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, Nathan Potter, would be a child shunned by the light, left alone in the darkness. Only allowed to experience misery, pain, sorrow... he on the other hand, will not allow his child to be unloved.

The one he will call his own brother...

His Harry...

October 31, 1981. The night of Halloween... this is a traditional holiday celebrated by the muggles, albeit in different ways in other parts of the world. It is also where many myths and legends are based around this day, where a man can dress up with a hokey mask and slash down victim after victim at an abandoned campground by a lake. It's a time where little children are easily afraid by their founded fears of the boogeyman, or some other dark creature of the night like Freddy Krueger. For the other people... it's celebrated much like the muggle way, where at a castle on this night, children of a famous magical school known as Hogwarts talk to friends, stuff themselves with candy and pastry sweets. However, on this night, was when he would arrive, the boogeyman of the Wizarding World.

They speak with fear of his name, Lord Voldemort. Many fear him, and simply call him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not many understood if you were not of magical heritage. Many outside the United Kingdom would not understand why such a name would be feared, as it sounds like some sort of anagram, however they do so, and without any possible clause: his name just frightens you. Only one other person in the world does not fear him, and he is but an old wizard who is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but is the one other person Voldemort feared himself... the other person he feared, was Harry Potter. The boy mentioned in a prophecy overheard by his spy. Voldemort was granted access to this small cozy house own by the Potter Family by the babysitter of the two boys.

His name was Peter Pettigrew, aka Wormtail, due to his Animagus form of a rat. As a rat Animagus, one would suspect him of being a possible traitor to the Light. Oh, how easy Dumbledore believes that little wimpy Wormtail could never be a Death Eater, or for that matter everyone else. It helps when you have a Death Eater that is not marked. However, after this, he will be marked.

"You done well Wormtail, stay here," he orders, and the balding man whimpered, bowing low like some lowly servant. Voldemort disappeared up the stairs, and entered the nursery room, where in the same crib were two sleeping toddlers.

"My, how the tables have turned. Dumbledore will never expect you to be dead, my little Harry. I could just easily take you with me, however, in the end, you will die. That way, no one... and I mean no one, can ever kill me. With your death marks the triumph of I, Lord Voldemort, against Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, an the entire world. With your death..."

He slowly trailed his wand, until the tip was aimed at the little boy's head.

"Shall mark the death of the muggles and those who oppose my rule..."

He licked his lips and uttered the chant of the world's dangerous curse.

_You will not harm my child..._

Who said that?

The curse had however flown towards the small child, until a single black wing folded itself around the sleeping infant. The curse that was deemed an Unforgivable, deemed unblockable, was reflected.

"What the f-" Are the last words uttered by the Dark Lord, before he was killed by his own curse. The haunted scream that followed caused Wormtail to escape, transforming into a rat form to hide away. The residue of the curse sent a shockwave, causing the house to catch on fire, and also leave a magical scar from the backlash to mark the forehead of Nathan Potter, who was now crying from the pain that his tiny body just experienced. Harry however was unmarked left under protection of that single wing that grew small, and folded back into his skin on his right shoulder.

On that night, after the horrific events and the two children had been saved from the burning home, Dumbledore uttered the mistake that would come to haunt them all in the years to come.

"I give you the Boy-Who-Lived: Nathan Potter!"

=0=0=

However so, the tides of the family had shifted, and now... most of the love had focused in on Nathan. Harry however, was now but a mention of the background. Even on his birthday shared with Nathan, he was never given any gifts or just given so few. Nathan on the other hand, received attention and gifts large enough to choke a child's imagination. Harry as the boys grew older, simply stayed quiet, having learned when he was five that he would never receive his mother's love, or his father's attention. Harry was a quiet child, where his only salvation of peace and sanity was in many books, and one book in particular which detailed about swords and the history of swords in itself. He was a lonely child, who never understood love, or even felt that emotion from the one person who had in a way granted him the chance to live in the world. He only had his books, his own solitude within his mind, and, when he turned eleven tomorrow, someone who would care for him.

And when he had awakened the next morning... he felt something, like a wing. He got up and looked in the cracked mirror he had in his barely decorated room dominated by books old and new... why is there a black avian wing folded against his right side? Wait, did it just twitch? Harry focused on that feeling, and willed his wing to span. It did so.

_Hello Harry..._

Harry turned around, looking around his room. There was no one there.

_I'm your mind... I'm glad you have finally discovered your powers. I have been watching you for so long Harry. Never fear of being alone again, Harry... I will shield you from the sadness..._

Harry, while lonely, was desperate for any form of attention. He clung to the voice, and felt a slow warmth draw around him, as if someone was holding him. Silent tears escaped the eleven year old's eyes. Behind him, cat-like eyes gazed down at the smaller figure, a deep concern shining in them. He never knew why he was granted this chance to live again. However so, he would gasp that chance. The pain the child was left in after his power had shielded him from death's hand would continue to protect him, and in time, merge with him, granting the boy his power... the very power he once used in his past life.

December 21, 1994.

Harry Potter, age fourteen, Ravenclaw Student of Hogwarts, was no where to be found. He wore a black trench coat with several belt straps wrapped around his biceps, a white tank that clung like a second skin with a fishnet sweater worn over that clothing. His shoulders were protected by silver oval gauntlets. His black leather boots were standard military issue, two thin black straps around the thighs, a pair of tight leather pants and a thick armor-plated belt. He wore fingerless leather bracers with silver bangles. His hair was left alone, allowed to grow out longer. Right now his raven black hair was down to the middle of his back, with eight inches of his hair length form the tips running up, having changed to match white silver. Around the front, his black fringes were in stylish dreadlocks that made him look badass.

On this winter afternoon, Harry walked alone. As he walked, if one was nearby, they would find a black feather of two left in his path of the footsteps in the snowy fields of the middle of nowhere. Harry was now old enough to take care of himself. So, he took whatever clothes he had, packed them away into his custom trunk, and left the house he no longer called a home. Some would say he was running away. Some would call him jealous because his brother was famous and he wasn't... okay, so that is what Ron Weasley would say. However... he had for the past eight years slowly severed his ties to his parents within his heart. How can he have a family when he was never given the love a child at such a young age would desire most of all?

The answer is simple...

You leave.

Harry, while a lonely child, was not truly alone. He had him. He was there when he turned eleven, and he would always be there for him. He had promise him that he would, and he had kept to that promise, even when Harry finally decided that he can no longer stay at the Potter Mansion. The wind blew the snow again, and he folded his coat tighter to keep himself warm. Too bad he couldn't use magic; otherwise he would have been expelled from the school. Oh well, where he was going, he doesn't need Hogwarts anymore. And he wouldn't need any use of his wand, the brother wand of Voldemort... In the room once his place of living, on an old mattress he's slept in for these years, was a wand broken in two halves. In the Headmaster's Office, where the old man was currently busy with his small lunch in the Great Hall, a phoenix trilled sadly, only heard by the ragged Sorting Hat.

Where would he go?

It's his guess to where his feet will take him to.

How would he live?

He will cross that bridge when it comes...

Then he noticed an old flier stuck to some sort of electrical pole that spanned the road he walked by for three hours now.

_Hm, interesting,_ his voice spoke, seeing the flier through Harry's eyes, _I would find out where this location is, Harry... I can see it helping you and your strengths for when Dumbledore's mistake comes to kick him in the ass._

_Agreed,_ he replied in the way that reminded the voice of his time in the military.

So, what is it about that mistake that Dumbledore made? Well, it comes soon. The Boy-Who-Lived was in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and all was well for Voldemort, having been told by Wormtail that the savior had passed the two of three tasks. Soon, Voldemort would have the child's blood. Poor disillusioned idiots. They know the Boy-Who-Lived has the blood necessary to revive their fallen master... they just got the wrong boy.

On the day it was time to return to Hogwarts, Peppy the House Elf announced to the Potters that Harry was not in his room. When asked to locate the boy by James, who was helping Nathan fit his broom into his trunk, he cam back a minute later saying that she could not find Harry in the mansion at all.

=0=0=

"You idiots!"

Voldemort was rebirthed once again, and upon seeing Nathan tied to the tombstone and not Harry, he called upon his group. Surrounded by his circle of Death Eaters, he was now allowed to yell and terrify them, even making an example by throwing the Killing Curse at an unfortunate victim, who in this case, turned out to be Lucius Malfoy.

"But master, isn't he the Boy-Who-Lived?" asked Goyle Sr. Voldemort's response was Crucio for ten seconds.

Nathan, sat rooted in fear, hearing the man who feared him, rage upon his own Death Eaters, calling them fools and idiots, yelling at them that he was not the one he wanted.

Pops echoed, and Voldemort turned around to see Dumbledore and the Order, wands ready.

"Release him now, Voldemort!" Dumbledore ordered.

"Fine! Take him!" He yelled cutting the ropes and roughly magicking the boy across the field to crash into the nearby stream, where James and Lily immediately rushed over to retrieve their son.

Voldemort turned around, and snarled with hatred shining in his eyes. "Now! Fix your damn mistake! Find me his blood! I need Harry Potter's blood to regain my full power!" His minions... those still living, Apparated away out of fear of death if any lingered for a second longer, while Wormtail, the sniveling coward, was struck by the Killing Curse. Voldemort turned his wand on Lucius, and casted a Black Fire Curse to turn the man's body into ash, before banishing the ash into nothingness.

"I don't know what you did Dumbledore, but I will find the boy, and when I do, the Wizarding World will tremble as I kill their savior. Harry's blood shall be the one that will grant me unlimited strength! And once he is dead, marks the deaths of many to come." His crimson eyes practically glowed with madness, before the Dark Lord vanished before their eyes.

Dumbledore thought that because Nathan was marked, that he was the savior, the one who can defeat Voldemort once and for all... he just then realized that he never gave any consideration into Harry's wellbeing. The boy, who was a Ravenclaw, was missing when the Potter House Elf Peppy announced that Harry was missing, and all they found was his wand snapped cleanly in two.

"What have I done?" he uttered in increasing horror.

Nathan was not the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was...

And Harry Potter was missing...

Harry had run away from home...

Abandoned his magical heritage...

Abandoned his family...

And now made Lily break down crying, because it had hit her, once again, that she had lost a son she for her own life could not find one positive memory of. Elsewhere, Harry fingered the handle of an impressively long sword.

_Masamune..._

=0=0=

March 8, 2009.

**I hear voices in my head...**

His inner voice was proud of Harry. Now at the age of twenty eight, Harry now resembled more or less just like himself in his past life. He had a real laugh when he discovered that in this world, he was nothing more than a video game character, a very famous one where his top award was for the scene of him killing the flower girl in the altar, and that today, he is still listed as one of the all-time villains in some sort of online voting site on IGN at one time.

_Sephiroth?_

Trails of silver wisp around him, as the man appeared like a spectral being, and embraced the boy. _Yes, Harry?_

_I can never forgive them,_ Harry tells the man. It was two years ago today, that marks the death of Voldemort, _fourteen years of my life I was left in darkness. My only saving grace was you..._

**He councils me...**

His wing ruffled a bit, as he remained sitting surrounded by a grove of trees. The trunk he sat down on was as hard as stone. Yet, he did not mind at all. _I understand Harry however it was their choices that they made. What they had decided to do is the rewards they will gain from it eventually._ Harry closed his eyes, as a strange clear liquid began to emerge from the ground, and slowly travel up the trunk of the tree. A pale hand reached up to wipe the tear away, and Harry simply snuggled further in the man's embrace. Cat-like eyes glowed softly, as Sephiroth held the young man closer. As the crystal slowly crept up around him into its solid cocoon, the last thought Harry was his fallen angel.

"Sephiroth..."

A name once feared in a past life, now saving grace for a lonely child.

**He understands...**

"Harry..."

The crystal glowed, before time within the rock stopped, preserving the man. This is where he would remain, until he is found by the Potters, whom reaching their old age, died next to the son they hardly knew in a desperate search for forgiveness. And Harry... he continued to sleep.

=0=0=

_Wake up Harry..._

The crystal cracked, and slowly the person within slowly climbed out. The cavern was lit with glowing moss, entangled vines, and the roar of a waterfall is heard. Everything around him had changed. He grabs his sword and left the crystal he slept in for god knows how long. Upon leaving the waterfall, he is surprised to see the world had changed drastically. High above, the sun shined brightly, and you could see grand forests all around, and before him was a giant lake which the waterfall fed into, and exited into a river right into a town he spotted in the distance.

The town, in which was under siege by flames, and the faint smell of death permeated the air.

_It would seem... we have work to do..._

Harry puts the sword to his side, where it belonged.

_Agreed..._

**He talks to me...**


End file.
